If there were one month I could erase from the calendar, it would be August.
Now, if August happens to be your birthday month, my apologies. My dad and my sister were both born in August. I have to admit, it’s a wonderful month for a birthday party. A swimming pool, juicy watermelon, hamburgers on the barbecue, children running through sprinklers… now that’s a celebration.
But the month itself?
Oy vey.
Here on the high desert plains of northwestern Nevada, August can be downright miserable.
First comes the heat. Endless, relentless, baking heat. I truly love living in the desert, but August seems to take things just a little too far. The beautiful landscape that only weeks ago shimmered with touches of green and golden grasses has faded into endless shades of burnt brown.
Even the wild mustangs—not the shiny ones parading through Hot August Nights in Reno, but the real ones roaming our hills—wander farther each day searching for something to eat. Their summer buffet has all but disappeared.
Everyone begins hoping for rain. Well… almost everyone. The folks headed to Burning Man in just a few weeks probably have a different opinion.
Every summer, our local news stations announce that we’ve entered “monsoon season.” I have to laugh every time I hear it. Yes, of course. We are apparently knee-deep in a monsoon season.
Right.
Until one year, we actually were.
A few summers ago, the skies opened over Burning Man and dumped inches of rain onto desert soil that doesn’t absorb water very well. Roads disappeared beneath thick mud. Vehicles couldn’t move. Thousands of people found themselves stranded in what had quickly become an unforgettable disaster.
That’s life in the desert. It is rarely a little bit of anything. It’s either all… or nothing.
August is also the month when everyone groans as the water bills arrive. Some people stop watering their lawns altogether. Others simply surrender and let everything turn brown. Even the once-beautiful stretch of grass in front of our neighborhood strip mall has given up for the summer. A town needs a little greenery. Apparently, ours missed that memo.
So, if you happen to live somewhere that enjoys eighty-degree afternoons, gentle summer showers, and evenings cool enough to sit outside, please know just how fortunate you are.
As for us?
We’ll be staying inside for a little while longer, watching the weather report, hoping those famous “monsoonal rains” finally decide to show up. Until then, August remains the one month I’d happily erase from the calendar.
Have a wonderful day, my friends, and wherever you are, may you find a cool breeze and something beautiful to enjoy.
